


Chamomile Tea

by SerenePhenix



Series: Shenanigan(g)s [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ADD & ADHD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Medication, Please read AN, Rehab Training, symptoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 23:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12264171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenePhenix/pseuds/SerenePhenix
Summary: Deciding what's best for oneself is never easy and just a long process of trial and error.OR: Pidge fucked up and Shiro's there to help.





	Chamomile Tea

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to point out that I do not know too much about how a technologically advanced prosthesis such as Shiro’s would work under normal circumstances and what processes would be involved in the making of it. This is me just being inaccurate, fully aware of the fact that I’m probably being inaccurate, for the sake of plot.  
> If there should be things depicted very wrongly about prostheses or rehab, please let me know and I’ll do my best to rework the parts.  
> Also, this is not a statement about taking or not taking one’s prescribed meds. This is just my own worries and woes expressed in a creative way. (After horribly failing one of my exams mind you.)

Shiro had been warned in advance and he was taking those warnings seriously. It was why he had taken all the necessary precautions. It was why he had armed himself with a hot, steaming mug, glad that his prosthesis was insensitive towards temperatures.

He hoped that the rich and sweet smell of hot chocolate would be enough to lure his friend out of their self-imposed exile.

“Pidge, c’mon, open up.” He called, knocking on her door plastered with all of his friend’s favorite stickers – witty jokes and one-liners, slogans for rallies conventions and poetry slams, and their favorite **They Are Out There** in glittery purple on a starry background.

“Go away.” The whine was drawn out and all too pitiful. No wonder the others had been reluctant to approach her – that was not Pidge-like behavior. Good thing that Matt was only a text away and that Shiro was more stubborn than could be considered healthy.

“I got hot chocolate.”

There was a pregnant pause and Shiro grinned when he heard the muffled shuffle of small feet in socks and finally the loud click of the doorlock. His grin dimmed somewhat when a single eye was visible through the crack Pidge had inched open, red and puffy and a little too dim.

She was quick to glance down and Shiro knew he had sparked her interest when he could see a little more of her caramel-brown as her eye widened.

“Whipped cream.”

Shiro nodded at her flat tone but it was clear that she was tempted. Hook, line and sinker.

“And cinnamon.”, he added, bringing the treat a little closer with a slow circling motion, the topping bobbing enticingly. Pidge’s eye followed the cup as though under a spell. It was entirely too amusing and far too endearing. No wonder Matt had told him to not let his guard down.

The fingers gripping onto the wood tapped a nervous rhythm, Pidge clearly undecided as to what she should do, probably knowing that this was a ploy to get her to give up on isolating herself. The single eye narrowed, her head tilting so that Shiro saw the outline of her pinched lips.

“Matt is a damn snitch.”

He let out a chuckle: “Can’t argue with that. So, are you gonna let me in or do I have to bring out the big guns?”

“Like what?” And Shiro was relieved to hear some of that snark return.

“Well,” he began and casually, slowly brought the mug closer to his face without actually looking at it, watching with great delight as the door opened further as Pidge tensed and seeing as what he could glimpse of her face was overtaken by alarm, “I could just have you watch me drinking this delicious-“

He didn’t even get to finish as the door was ripped open so fast its handle slammed against the wall with a bang. It was a miracle he hadn’t startled hard enough to spill half of the hot beverage over his prosthesis.

He was dragged in before he could process what was happening, standing there stunned in the middle of Pidge’s domain as the lock turned.

The room was more of a mess than usual. Books were lying on the floor, single leaves and sticky notes littering whatever part of the boards had not been claimed yet by the unsteady pillars. The workplace had to be about the worst of it with cables lying desolate and a little lost on the table, with mugs and a few plates piling up and obstructing the view of the impressively huge monitor.

While the carnage around him spoke of struggles indescribably, the nest of blankets and laptop on the bed told the sad tale of the aftermath.

Pidge dragged him over to her bed, gingerly picking up her laptop and depositing it close to the headrest, the screen lighting up and the familiar black and red of Netflix popping up to ask whether she wanted to watch the rest of the third season of some space mecha animated series.

She paid it no mind though, rearranging the blankets and other pillows so that they could both sit comfortably, Shiro doing the most important job of not spilling any of the hot chocolate with all the hustle and bustle.

It was somewhat disheartening to not see her nod in approval at her own work, something Pidge did so often when she successfully saw a project (or even such mundane tasks) to completion.

Still, it was to be expected. The whole thing had been a huge blow to Pidge’s pride and even Shiro could admit that he would only have been more worried if she had carried on like nothing had happened.

Finally, Pidge plopped down, patting the place next to her in invitation. Once Shiro was settled, she pulled the laptop back onto her lap, tilting the screen so that Shiro could see it without trouble or with the colors being adulterated.

He would have preferred to cut to the chase but he knew that with Pidge there was not pushing it. And anyway, the fact that she had already allowed him inside and had arranged for him to stay longer than five minutes could be counted as a victory in and of itself.

“Do you want to watch something else?”

He glanced at her but could not catch Pidge’s eye with how intently she was staring at the screen in a helplessly obvious effort to evade his gaze. He would indulge her for now, so long as she would allow him to help later.

“It’s alright, I haven’t seen that episode yet.”

He made sure she could hear the smile in his voice. She nodded, finger tapping onto the touchpad.

They watched as the poor kids in the show had to sort out their constellation as a team with one of their members having gone MIA during their last stand against the evil, crazy guy in a cape and Shiro couldn’t help but feel bad for all of them. Even he could admit that when they all had watched the finale he had been at the edge of his seat.

The cup went between both of them, Pidge insisting he take a sip as well. She had not even needed words, her caramel eyes boring into his with quiet adamancy that was hard to refuse.

It was an interesting blend but Shiro generally preferred darker and bitter flavors, thus leaving it to Pidge to empty most of the mug.

By their third episode, the mug had been drained of its steaming content and Shiro could admit that he was growing antsy. He was not someone that could remain seated for hours on end, needed to be moving and be doing something. And right now, that something was getting Pidge to leave her room again before Matt would drive here from two towns over to take matters into his own hands.

“Are you alright?”

Pidge’s nose scrunched up, her glasses bobbing up and down before she gave a long-suffering sigh. The characters on screen froze in the midst of a battle with the enemy team.

In the silence dragging on and on, Pidge let her thumb thump gently onto the plastic casing of her computer.

“Not really.” she finally conceded, sounding annoyed “I’m mostly just angry at myself.”

She looked up at him, her expression just as carefully neutral as Shiro’s as he listened.

“I mean, I have no excuse for the bullshit I pulled, do I?”

“The fact that you didn’t want to work on the assignment and then proceeded by procrastinating and doing any and all other projects that weren’t as important?”

It might have sounded harsh if he hadn’t sent her a lopsided smile, trying to lighten the mood but it did not soften the blow anyway. Pidge’s brow furrowed further, eyes narrowed as she drew her knees up to her chest, resting her crossed arms on them and hiding the bottom half of her face in the folds of her enormous sleeves.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Shiro internally winced, knowing he had hit a nerve. Still, it had been Pidge asking him to remind her of the assignment and it had been him she had ignored again and again, waving him off casually, saying she had it all under control. Until she didn’t anymore. Until she came back from her lecturer’s office, saying that she had failed the assignment.

He looked at her, the disaster of a mess that was her room and let his eyes fall onto a spot on her desk that was suspiciously untouched. A rectangular box that was not supposed to look new and pristine.

He could feel his brow furrow.

“Did you take your meds?”

It was a question he felt needed to be asked, consequences be damned, because he and Pidge knew the repercussions of such actions… and because it would put all that had happened into a new light. Instantly Pidge’s shoulders went rigid, her hands cramping up. There was something dark and dangerous overtaking her expression, an emotion unlike any Shiro had ever seen on her face before. It was… ugly.

“So what?” She spat, her voice low with anger. “Are you going to lecture me like dad?”

The question was mean-spirited, a silent warning for him to stop prodding where it obviously hurt the most, to back off, to not dare dig deeper for the actual skeletons in the metaphorical closet.

Shiro was wary, granted, but he was not dissuaded even less intimidated by such a display of raw, teenage petulance and misplaced stubbornness.

“No. I’m just asking if you took them.”

When nothing else followed his statement, no questions, no attempts to justify his curiosity, some of the tension seemed to bleed out of his friend. There were questions in her eyes but she held them back, probably to test his patience, to make him crack and admit he did have ulterior motifs. But when Shiro failed to do any of those things and furthermore refused to leave, she appeared to have accepted that he had indeed not bribed his way inside her room to reprimand her.

Heaving a huge sigh, she enveloped herself into one of the soft fuzzy blanket pooled around her.

“Sorry for being so snappy. I just hate being reminded of it.”

Shiro blinked in failing comprehension. Luckily, Pidge caught on fast.

“I hate being reminded of the fact that I’m… not alright.”

She grimaced at the last words, as though she’d bitten into a lemon.

“What are you talking about?” Shiro did not mean to make this more difficult than absolutely necessary but Pidge was being unusually unprecise and he now noticed how much he had come to rely on that particular strength of hers.

Pidge grumbled, clearly unhappy. The tip of her nose was threatening to disappear within the folds of the galaxy print of her hoodie.

“The ADHD.” The admittance sounded painful, deep furrows appearing between Pidge’s eyebrows.

“Okay,” Shiro said slowly, rolling his shoulders nervously as Pidge’s face took on a rather stormy expression, “but what does that have to do with anything?”

“FUCKING EVERYTHING!”

Shiro barely had enough time to duck out of the way of the hand shooting out of the blanket cocoon as Pidge exploded. He remained in his somewhat inclined position, resting most of his weight on his elbow as Pidge began to rant.

“Why does it always have to be about my fucking dysfunction?! It shouldn’t matter! It didn’t matter two years ago, before that damn shrink ever brought it up! Two years ago, I could tell myself that if I messed something up then I’d just have to work harder to make up for it! Two years ago, I could tell myself that I was just being irresponsible or lazy or whatever else the fuck I could change about myself! But now! Now, all that I have is this goddammit diagnosis telling me I’m broken and useless and that I cannot do anything by my-fucking-self! And I can’t stand it!”

She had jumped off the bed, Shiro fearing she might get tangled in her cocoon and trip and hurt herself but Pidge was not to be stopped. She circled the small space, furious and tense.

Finally, she stopped with her shoulders hunched and her head ducked but Shiro still saw the tears clinging to her lashes before they fell.

“I should be stronger than this. _Mind over matter_. That’s how the saying goes. Then why can’t I do it? I don’t want to think I’m that weak. So why can’t I just do it?”

There so much sadness and frustration lacing her voice. Shiro had never realized how much of a problem this actually had been to his friend for such a long time. Because this was no sentiment that came overnight. Because up until now, Pidge had never let it show how much this had bothered her.

“Hey…” he made his voice as gentle as possible, Pidge looking at him through the tears, sniffling and wiping at her blotchy face with her sleeves. With her glasses riding up, she almost looked like a kid really.

He patted the empty spot next to him and although Pidge seemed reluctant, she still followed his invitation.

Testing the waters, Shiro put his hand on her shoulder and when she did not shrug it off he let it stay there.

“I get it.”

She did not roll her eyes at him but it was clear she felt he was trying to give her a friendly but ultimately useless pep-talk. Her flat expression was indication enough and Shiro tried his best at not letting it get to him.

Maybe he really ought to change tactics then. He waited a moment longer, just until Pidge had pulled a tissue out of the dispenser close to her pillow and finally blown her nose.

“Did you know that I actually screamed at Matt once?”

The change in topic seemed to do the trick, his friend staring at him wide eyed as she still wiped her nose.

“You, scream at Matt?” She teased, sounding not the least bit convinced. “You’re not being serious are you? The two of you are married.”

Shiro could not help the grin: “Maybe a little. But I’m being completely honest.”

“No way.” She whispered, he voice taking on that amused lilt, clearly thinking he was pulling her leg when Shiro was anything but.

“I’m not joking.” He made sure he sounded serious enough for her to understand he was being earnest but still kept his voice light. The point of this was to make her feel better. “It was after we had moved from the very first prototype and fitting to the more nimble model.”

Pidge nodded absentmindedly, her eyes alight as she probably saw the blueprints flash in front of her mind. She had helped with coding and programming, eliminating as many of the bugs that she could, helping Matt turn a vision into a reality.

“Matt had me trying to hold a glass – not the thick and heavy ones but those fragile things that crack if you put too much pressure on them even with a normal hand. And now imagine me, with that unrefined prosthesis and trying to hold one of those. Yep.” he agreed when Pidge gave a wince “my point exactly.”

He felt his lips twitch in a lopsided grin, unclenching his fist when he noticed Pidge’s eyes flickering to it in mild concern as it still clasped her shoulder. He needed to relax. It was strange how, even after all those years, he could feel that bitterness and helplessness of the first months. Shiro had never been good at letting go, even if his friends did not believe him.

He took a deep breath and went on, forcing it all back for Pidge’s sake and because he knew that it did not matter; that those feelings had never helped him any.

“It was the most horrible, most grueling exercise of them all. And yes, I am saying this while still remembering the first few weeks of rehab.” He added when Pidge’s eyebrows disappeared behind her messy fringe. Back when he had done his best to regain mobility and muscle mass in his shoulder, he had at times yowled in pain when the therapist would rotate what was still left of his mangled arm. Keith, Matt and Sam had unfortunately been there to witness some of the more unpleasant sessions. His heart still grew heavy at the memory of Keith’s pale face and wide eyes.

But nothing had compared to the glass-holding exercise.

“The part that made it so horrible was that, for weeks, all I ever managed to do was crush the damned thing into dust. I just couldn’t get my hand and fingers to minimize the pressure.”

“After what felt like the thousandths try and Matt once again telling me to just be _patient_ and to _focus,_ I snapped.”

When he looked at his prosthesis - this mismatch of metal and plastic. If he squinted hard enough he could still see the sparkling powder that had always mocked him for his failure.

He felt Pidge’s gaze on him and was grateful that she gave him the time he needed to put the events of that day into words.

She could not possibly know but he had never told anyone about it. Not even Keith. It would have broken his brother’s heart.

“I screamed at him.” He said quietly and with calmness he certainly did not feel inside as he let the words slip out. Funny, how he was now the one unable to look Pidge in the face. “Told him that what we were doing was a waste of time, since there was no way I could ever do this. That _I_ couldn’t do it. That I was broken and useless and that he should pour his time and effort into someone who would not disappoint him. And when all he did was stare at me, telling me ‘Bullshit’ in that deadpan voice of his… yeah, maybe… I kind of punched him.”

Pidge let out a snort but refrained from outright laughing– she was too much of a good sister to do that.

“So that was why he came back that black eye that evening.” Her gaze drifted over to the other side of the room, unseeing. She let out a whisper, turning back to him. “This explains so much.”

Shiro could not help himself: “What did he tell you guys?”

Pidge gave a shrug, the blanket lifting up a bit.

“Just that the calibration was off and that your arm jerked when he was about to do small adjustments.”

Oh, Shiro would have much preferred that to be the case.

“Yeaaaah, no.”

Shaking her head, Pidge fixated him with an inquisitive expression.

“So, what was the point in telling me that? Did my brother kick your butt until you finally managed to hold the glass?”

He chuckled at her impatience, relieved that, slowly, she was more at ease again.

“The butt-kicking part? Definitely. Matt was merciless on that one. As for me overcoming the impairment on my own? Sure as hell no.”

She squinted at him and Shiro rested his cheek against his fist, leaning most of his weight into the leg he had drawn up and on which he had been resting his elbow for a while now. When her mouth just opened and closed in failing understanding, Shiro decided to cut her some slack.

“After another few sessions and after me acting like a depressed puppy, Matt figured that this problem also wasn’t a _simple mind over matter_ issue.”

He had said depressed puppy jokingly, but it had been anything but amusing. It was the only time, aside from when he had woken up in that hospital room, disoriented, panicked and overwhelmed by flashbacks of the car flipping over and over and over again, that he had cried after the accident. Out of sheer frustration. Out of frustration with himself.

The same frustration he was seeing in Pidge.

“So, how did you do it?” There was something hopeful and mystified in her voice, in her eyes that seemed so much bigger behind her round spectacles.

“I needed Matt to readjust the prosthesis. I never had any part in finally being able to hold that glass.”

Before her face could entirely be overtaken by dismay, he went on: “I think what I want to tell you by that… is that it isn’t your fault. Maybe, the part about you not taking your meds, yes, but not the fact that you need them in the first place.”

He flexed the fingers of his prosthesis, both of them staring at the joints bending, listening to the almost inaudible creaking and grinding of the two different materials against each other.

“I cannot say what my life would be like without this prosthesis. Maybe I’d be doing just fine, maybe everything would be a whole lot more difficult. But I know that my willpower alone would not have been enough to pass that test.”

Shiro could still feel the sting of his smile as he had beamed at Matt while he held the delicate stem of a wine glass, could still see the thumbs up coming from the disheveled mob of brown hair with bags under its eyes that Matt mutated into over the course of the nights he had kept tinkering with his invention.

“I have always needed an aid to use that arm correctly. It doesn’t mean I didn’t work hard to get the dexterity I have now but even while doing this,” and he reached for the forgotten mug to emphasize his point, holding it up to Pidge’s face, his friend going cross-eyed as she followed the movement “I am painfully aware that it would not be possible for me without Matt having built in a sort of buffer. I will always need some sort of ‘help’ to keep myself from destroying stuff with such an advanced and strong prosthesis. Just like you might need help in the form of your pills to keep focused. And there is no shame in that. That’s something Matt has taught me.”

It was impossible to define the expression Pidge was wearing but Shiro felt like he had done something good when she smiled at him, eyes a touch too bright for it to be normal, and wound her arms around his torso to hug him.

He put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close as well.

“It’s also okay for you to say that you don’t want to take the meds. It will just mean that you will have to take the necessary precautions. Either way,” he said, jostling her a little so that he could be sure he had her full attention as she peaked up at him. Her eyes were positively brimming with tears, the kind of tears that made you feel lighter once they were shed, “we will be there to help you every step of the way. No matter what you decide, we’ll help you. That’s what friends and family are for.”

With how hard she was nodding, Shiro had to brace himself against the wall to make sure they were not toppling over. But he did not miss the quiet murmur coming from the bunched up folds of his sweater.

“Thank you. Thank you.”

He smiled, carding his hand through her hair, watching pictures of their last game night flash over the darkened screen of Pidge’s laptop.

 


End file.
